The 1st Step
by Rose Pattinson-Cullen
Summary: After a big night out, Edward and Bella, both duxes of a prestigious Perfoming Arts Academy, are forced to depend on each other in the up-and-coming, career-determining contracting concert. Their futures, and hearts, now infinatley belong to the other.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Hope you like my newest story – I decided it'd be something different, the boarding school, Performing Arts Academy thing. I also decided to experiment with the tense, so let me know how the current-tense thing is working for you. Don't forget to review!**

**Disclaimer: As if!**

'Ok! From the top, everyone! Here we go! And 5-6-7-8-and!' Mrs Dantine shouts,

her voice booming elegantly throughout the wooden studio. 'That's it…yes, Angela! No! It's not a crouch! You need to ball up. Afraid!' By now, we have all stopped moving. 'And again! From the Top!' she shouts, frustrated, before counting us in for at least the tenth time. 'Twist-twirl-leap-down-ball-spring-arm-clutch-kick-' she keeps going, shouting all the movements out to us as we complete the thing from memory.

Everyone holds their positions when the music stops, absolutely shocked that she hadn't called us to a half halfway through. I feel sorry for the girls who are being held above the guys' heads, and even sorrier for the guys who are holding them there. We are all panting heavily, but are forced to hold our positions as Mrs Dantine ponders over us. It's just as Eric's arms began to quiver under the weight of Jessica that she says we can release the stance.

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, shaking their muscles and stretching. As the bell signaling next lesson rings, she calls to us all, 'Okay, everyone don't forget to run through that between now and tomorrow.' We all begin to file out, but a call stops me. 'Oh, and Isabella?' Everyone turns to see why she was calling my name, but then they continue moving out, until they're all gone. 'Isabella, I saw you twist that ankle. Go to sick bay for some ice.'

'Kay, I will,' I tell her, grumbling. I'd hoped she hadn't noticed.

'Oh, and great dancing,' she shouts, just before the door closes. It has to be the first sentimental thing she's ever said to me. maybe, after five and a half years, she realizes that she's not scary to us anymore, and she may as well get on our good side. I don't know, and it's always things like this that let me down in class. I ponder and think over insignificant things too much.

When I arrive in Contemporary, ten minutes late due to all the paperwork dramas at sickbay, Lilith is just finishing warming up. 'Ah, Bella - nice that you could join us,' she says welcomingly. Lilith is an exuberant character, and can project her voice throughout the entire auditorium with out trouble. She's only about 30, and she wears knee-length swishy, patterned skirts and dresses; tight, vibrant T-shirts; and bright red Mary Jane's. In winter, she wears fishnets, and in summer, she wears short socks with rainbow stripes and crosshatched patterns. She always wears her flaming ringlet hair in intricate knots and swirls on the top of her head. She is also the most talented dancer and improviser I have ever met, and ever since year 7, she has been the most motherly figure this school has had to offer me.

'I'm sorry. I had to get some ice.' I point to the icepack in my hand, and after I sit down in the circle, I put it on my foot.

'Oh, that's a shame. At least, for you, we won't be doing much dancing today. I have news.' She addresses the entire class now. 'So, we all know that it's your last term. Your last term of being together as a group, before all going your own ways. Now, who can tell me what that means?' Our enthusiastic teacher receives dead looks from the class. 'The concert! Of course! Now, who knows what _that_ means?'

Alice, trying to be helpful and accommodate Lilith's gusto, raises her hand slightly, and says, 'The solos?'

'Yes! Well done, Miss Alice!' A hiss of excitement shaves through the room. Every year, the Year 12 solos are amazing. The academy would sometimes spend hundreds and hundreds of dollars on costumes, props and lighting, if they believed that the performance could get that particular student a signing.

Each year, multiple contractors sit on a balcony in the auditorium, murmuring to each other and jotting down official notes in leather-bound books, the possibility of the next big thing at their fingertips. Usually, two, possibly three of four, students get an offer. And, whatever you plan to do with your life, if you got an offer, you take it. Regardless.

Lilith continues, 'Now, as you know, this year's graduating class is ridiculously over packed, and we have almost double the students that we normally do. And so, this year, you'll be dancing in pairs.'

'Will they be mixed sex pairs?' Mike Newton, by far the most hormonal guy in the group calls out.

'Yes,' Lilith answers hesitantly. 'The girls will have the pleasure of drawing a boys' name out of a hat. That's your partner. No swapping or complaining. I'm actually quite surprised the numbers worked out,' she adds to herself, as a side-note. 'So! Boys, come and grab paper here. Write your names down. And don't be idiots. We'll be able to tell, surprisingly enough, that there are in fact_ not_ three Robbie Williams in the classroom.'

The guys all write their names down, while the girls get into line. I end up somewhere in the last couple of people, but I don't really care who I get placed with. It's not like it matters. They're all complete bastards.

One by one, the girls pick out their partners at random. The list keeps growing longer, and the range of guys left keeps getting smaller. By the end, Lilith's list reads:

_Jessica Stanley & Craig Mc Lachlan_

_Maggie Roberts & Adrian Elkins_

_Olive Peterson & Gale de Henderson_

_Rosalie Hale & Michael Newton_

_Lauren Mallory & Sebastian Hawthorn _

_Alice Brandon & Tyler Greggory_

_Carmen Jasons & Jace Nicholson_

_Angela Webber & Edward Cullen_

_Isabella Swan & Eric Matthews_

_Louise Cummings & Emmett Mc Carthy_

_Libby Rose Miller & Jasper Whitlock_

I look at Eric: a guy with a strong build, which means we can incorporate lots of lifts and jumps – something that always impressed the executives.

'Now, you and your partner may go to a part of the room, and brainstorm some ideas. I'll put on some music to help you. I also have paper here, if you need it…' she trails, browsing through her vast collection of CDs. She finally puts one on, as we all get a couple of sheets of paper, and a pen off her cluttered desk. All of the dance teachers have their own rooms – it had been decided it would make their lives a lot easier, not having to deal with changes in the size and shape of a room.

She puts on some classical, and I recognize the tune, faintly, but have trouble naming it. Eric and I sit down in a corner, and lightly brainstorm while making small talk and mucking about. He tells me how he admired my precision in the technique assessment at the conclusion of last semester, which makes me flush with embarrassment.

I ask him if he knows the piece of music playing, when the disc returns to the start, playing the initial song.

'No, no idea. I haven't heard it before,' he says, after pausing to listen to it carefully.

By the end of the period, we have sparse ideas, and the only things written on our pages are different themes, like whether we're going classical or modern, and possible inspirations, which includes a couple of books. We're not too keen on doing the romance thing, although neither of us says exactly that, but it's obvious by the way we both steer clear of the subject. Along with a couple of rough sketches of lifts, we seem to be a long way from a comfortable starting point.

As we file out, I glance at everyone else's paper – they, too, have little written down. We'd been told that we had four and a half weeks to perfect our routine, and we would work on different aspects of it in Contemporary, Ballet and Technique classes. _This isn't just a performance_, Lilith had told us. It's going to be the final method of assessment, and determines our overall results, which determines our chances of getting into our preferred collage, which, in turn, could determine what we do with our lives.

Apparently – or rather, frighteningly – this is a very, very big deal.

'You're with Tyler, yeah?' I ask Alice as we walk down the winding corridors to our room. We'd been roommates ever since Year 7, when we'd both come to the school not knowing anyone, coming from families that were almost disadvantaged, compared with those whose children attended here. We were both on a scholarship, and both in the run down residential hall that is now home. It's populated with kids who were as ordinary as we are, and whose parents can't afford one of the 'deluxe' or 'premium' rooms. Of course, the academy isn't allowed to say which halls are best, but it is known by all that the scholarship kids live in the residential hall – or the 'rezzie' – and the snobs and bitches live in the Fitzpatrick d'Albert hall.

Over the years, Alice and I had gained position in the rezzie, and now that we're at the top of the food chain, Year 12, we pretty much lead the population of it, along with Angela Webber and Olive Peterson, and Henry Scanlon and Jared Lees, from the other Year 12 stream.

We hold the meetings, about little things like out of order showers, and getting people to 'fess up for leaving the basement laundry taps on. It's not as if it's entirely pointless – for doing it, we get the three best rooms in the place. Basically, these only have a little kitchenette instead of a minibar, guaranteed hot water and extra space in the lounge area.

'Yeah.' Alice replies my inquiry. 'He's an okay dancer, but a bit buff for me. And, very absent-minded,' She sighs. Just like me, she is going to be doing most of the work in her partnership.

I grin at her. 'You wanted Jasper, didn't you?!'

'No,' she grumbles, embarrassed. 'So not.' Jasper Whitlock lives in the Fitzpatrick d'Albert hall, and once gave Alice flowers and chocolate for Kris Kringle. They've never been out, but a few years ago we caught them kissing behind the groundskeepers' shed. Since then, they've been very weary of each other: they avoid the others' glances, and blush when directly talked to by the other. But, when they're alone – or think they are, with me listening through the dorm door – they get along like Jake and I used to. They're not very romantic anymore, but we all know what's on their minds.

'Oh, I see. And I think you were already planning on the dance you were going to do with him, too. What's with all the period romance novels lying around?'

'Shut up, Bella. You have no idea what you're talking about,' Alice says, in a tone that forces me not to continue. At this moment, Angela runs up behind us.

'Guys!' she calls out. We stop, and turn to face her. 'Friday night. We're going into town. It's last term and we've still all at least got five leave passes. We just have to be back before two. You've got to come with,' she says, her eyes pleading. Alice brightens immediately at the offer.

'Sure! Who's coming and where are we going?'

'Um, well, I've invited pretty much all of the year, except a couple, and like five can't come. We thought we'd go to Zest or whatever it's called. The 16+ place. Oh, and I've still got to go to the d'Albert hall, but there's only a couple people who I was thinking of.'

Sensing Alice is jittering at the chance of talking to Jasper, I try to make up for my comment earlier. 'We'll go. Save you the trip. And I've got to pick up my blazer from the dry cleaner in their basement, so that'll be perfect.'

'Oh,' replies Angela. 'Cool. Thanks. Um, how about we meet you there at ten? It's on the main street. Hard to miss.'

'Sweet, Ange. See you there. Thanks for the invite,' I call back to her, as she bounces down the hallway, and into the elevator.

'Thanks, Bells. Now, who should we ask?' She asks, as we dump our books and bag behind the office counter, and go down a couple of corridors to the exit.

'Jasper?' She glares. 'Okay, um, Jasper, Carmen, Maggie?'

'Jasper is not going to be the only guy we invite. How desperate would I look?'

'Okay, how about Emmett McCarthy? He's a laugh.'

'Yeah. Good. Who else?'

'Uh, I don't really know.'

'Well, there's the Elkins twins and de Henderson. And there's Cullen. He knows how to dance.' The mention of my year 7 crush made me a little uncomfortable.

'If Cullen goes, then Queen Bee'll go too.'

'Ugh. I'm tired of calling her that. Can't we just say Rosalie? I don't want to leave here with any grudges. And it's okay if she comes. It was ages ago, Bells. You're over it.'

'Sure.' Rosalie Hale is the Queen of the academy. She is like the school's Regina George, except less bitchy. Sort of. She does stuff for the community, gets into the papers on a regular basis, and is head of the SRC. It is my wonderful pleasure to be her beta.

She is also best friends with Edward Cullen, who has duxed our year since our arrival. Well, except for last year, when someone – me – got the best of him by three percent. Yeah, we tied in all the dance classes, and he blitzed me in Biology, but last year was our eighteenth century novel module in English, and he can't speak French for shit. Well, compared to Alice, who outscored us both by miles. Since then, he's always had a playful grudge against me, and we joke about it sometimes.

By now, Alice and I are inside the d'Albert hall, and once we reach the Year 12 floor, we split up, in search of the different peers. I end up with Carmen, Maggie, Edward and Emmett, while Alice takes Jasper, the Elkins, Gale de Henderson, and Rosalie. Of course, there will be many more than this coming – their roommates will be desperate for a chance to escape the confinements of the school, so we'll probably end up with almost the entire year going.

Ten minutes later, I've talked to Carmen and Emmett, and knock on Maggie's door. Her roommate answers, and says Maggs sick with the flu, down in the sickbay, and will be there overnight. She seems to sense that there is something happening tonight, so I invite her to come, regardless of the fact I have no idea of what her name is.

When I reach Edward's room, I hear the stereo playing loudly from the inside. Something I've noticed about Edward is that he always listens to music – on his iPod, on his laptop in class, and you can constantly hear his stereo pounding whenever you're on this part of the floor.

I recognize the song – a trippy one with a lot of synth and bass. I start singing along to the lyrics, right outside his door, and I get right to the end of the chorus when the door swings open, revealing an Edward with shaving foam covering half of his face.

'Oh. Hi. Come to steal my notes, hey? Afraid yours won't cut it and you'll loose dux?'

'Pretty sure your notes have nothing on mine,' I tell him, smiling.

'Oh, I see. Sure. Um, come in, if you'd like. I'm just gonna be a second.' He turns and leaves the door to his room open, inviting me in. He heads into the bathroom to wipe his face, with a, 'Make yourself comfortable!'

I find it strange that he is so welcoming, but go in and sit on his couch regardless. The pristine gray suede is far superior to the silly worn out printed cotton one in our dorm, but ours is more comforting and homey. He emerges just after I have flicked through the opening pages of a magazine on his coffee table.

'So,' I state, not sure where to begin.

'So,' he agrees, nodding.

'Well, we're all going into town, to the club there or something. We barely have any homework, and we're all want to let our hair down for a night. Ooh, I like that dress.'

He comes over from his bed, where he was rummaging in his schoolbag, and looks over my shoulder. 'Nice,' he comments.

'Anyway, Angela's organizing it, so you should come. Also, Alice says you can dance, so…'

'Me? Dance? No way.'

'Ugh. Not even funny.'

'It was worth a shot.' He smiles at me. 'Which club?'

'Zest, is it?'

'Ahh, yep. Rose knows one of the DJs there.'

'She would,' I say, for myself, and not him. Apparently, I'm not over it. He just laughs at me.

'So, what am I wearing?'

'Ah, a real dilemma. How about your mankini?' I stand up, and cross to the door. 'You're a big boy. You'll figure it out.' And with that, I leave.

A call down the hall makes me stop and look over my shoulder. 'Bella!'

'Yeah?'

'I'll see you there, right?'

I smile. 'Yeah, you will.'

He grins. 'Awesome.'

* * *

'Serious?' Alice asks, while she curls my hair with steaming tongs. 'Like, "Will I see you there? Awesome." Really? Oh my God!'

'Mm-hm,' I tell her.

''Kay,' she murmurs, putting down the tongs and unplugging them. She rushes to the shared closet, bringing out two dresses that have been worn once or twice. She hands one to me, and then strips off her T-shirt to her strapless bra, before sliding it on. She adjusts it a little, then strips her shorts off from underneath. The dress is strapless and a darkish blue. It has a silver sequined sash running just under the bustline, and thin pleats cascade out from under it. The last time she wore it was when the entire year went out to dinner for the 'WELCOME TO THE END' celebration at the end of Year 11. 'Pop yours on, too Bella,' she instructs me, so I do the same.

It is a bright red, and has ruffled panels running down the front and sides. The two thick straps join onto a bust that curves up and knots in the middle to make me look like I have much more in that department than I actually do. As well as chicken fillets, which Alice decided we both needed a pair of in year 10, I look like the other girls in my year.

We both adjust our dresses and hair for a moment, standing before the full length mirror, then pull on some jewellery. I choose a few little black and gold pieces – gold hoops, a black choker and some chunky bangles. Alice stacks on the filigree, and I have to remind her that it's a club, not a wedding. She just sneers at me and continues to put in the dangly earrings she's holding. Along with heels – simple, tall, fire-truck red ones for me, and shiny silver glittering ones for Alice – we are ready to leave, and we decide to grab some tea in town.

At reception, we sign out with our cards, while the attendants eye our glitzy costumes with criticizing, somewhat envious eyes. We giggle as we prance out, not bothering to conceal our joy at escaping the boundaries of school. We go to the Italian restaurant in the main street, just a couple doors down from Zest.

When we arrive at Zest, we spot Ange, Eric, Emmett, Rosalie and a few other people I don't have names for up on a balcony, waving to us to join them. The club is packed full of young people, and I can't see a single defined person in the crowded mess of bodies on the dance floor.

Heavy music plays, and within half an hour our group of couches is full, and people are hooking up and heading off to the dance floor. I chat to a couple of people, and soon enough, I find myself face to face with Edward. Our area is almost empty now – Ange and Eric are chatting cozily on a loveseat and a couple of girls are gossiping about who just made out, as well as a couple of guys, including Mike Newton, who are seeing who can drink the most shots before either puking of falling over. We talk for quite awhile, taking swigs of alcoholic drinks at irregular, frequent intervals, and I have completely lost my sense of time, and it could be eleven o'clock or four o'clock and I wouldn't know any better.

'Wanna dance?' he shouts into my ear, just loud enough for me to hear over the raging festivities. If the dance floor had looked surreal when I first arrived, now it was animalistic. Bodies entwined, pressed together by everyone else, dancing to the hard beat of the computerized song. I nod vigorously, deliriously, and he leads me down the flashing steps and into the core of the club.

It has to be at least 55 degrees in the centre of the floor, and I feel like I'm breathing in moist fire, but the effect it has on me is maddening. We dance for a long time – too long, as my face is now covered in sweat, and my make-up is smudged around my eyes – and he keeps getting closer. Edward now leans down to put his face next to mine. He, too, is saturated in sweat, but it doesn't stop him from pressing his lips to mine, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I don't know how long we stand there, interlocked, swaying slowly to the beat of the music, but soon enough, and much too soon for my liking, an unkempt looking Alice is tugging at my arm, telling me we have to leave because we need to be back in fifteen minutes. Only then do I realize what I've done. How I've betrayed myself.

'Ugh, I'm sorry. That was a mistake,' I shout in his ear, Alice still pulling my arm frantically.

'What?!'

'I didn't mean to…yeah. Please, just, forget about that!' I shout back.

'Excuse me?'

'I have to go. Sorry. It never happened!' And with that, I leave. I'm drunk, that I know, and am delusional, so walking back to school takes longer than expected. We arrive five minutes late, and are given five detentions from an annoyed attendant who we have to wake up with the counter bell, and who's probably pissed she had to stay up in the office, waiting on partying eighteen year-olds. It appears that we are the first ones here, so we'll be getting off easy.

As we stagger down the halls and through the grounds and up the elevator to our room, we hear various parties arriving back. There's a big one of guys, another of girls and guys, then a lot of singles or pairs. As the elevator doors slide home, I catch a glimpse of Edward Cullen, walking in through the iron ornate gates. I check my watch: it's twelve past, so he'll be in DTs for two and a bit weeks.

He seems to catch my eye in the split second before the doors shut, and he looks horribly dejected and lonely. I want to go up to him and explain what happened and why it was a mistake and how I wish I could take it back to avoid hurting us both, but for one, Alice is in and even worse state than me, and if left alone could wake up later this morning in a janitors closet with an unknown, undressed year nine, and two, I know that if I do, it will bring back all the reasons I never really let myself like him in the first place. Because, if I do, he will tell Rosalie Hale, which would bring back every reason that she got the nickname Queen Bee, or Bitchzilla, as Alice and I used alone in the dorms, where no one could judge us for our crude, horrible remarks.

* * *

Hangovers suck.

Hangovers suck, especially when you're up at 7.30 the next morning. Hangovers suck, most of all when you're up at 7.30 the next morning, sitting in the Headmaster's office, sharing a couch with the guy you distinctly remember regretting kissing last night when you were drunk on vodka and dodgy cheap beer in the middle of a dance floor in a club named Zest.

However, hangovers suck a little less when you find out that the reason you're sitting in the Headmaster's office, sharing a couch with the guy you distinctly remember regretting kissing last night when you were drunk on vodka and dodgy cheap beer in the middle of a dance floor in a club named Zest, isn't in fact a result of your behavior last night, but someone else's.

'So, Mr Cullen; Ms Swan. The reason you're here is that your partners for the end of year performance are currently flying home to different parts of the country. Do you have any idea why this might be?'

Both Edward and I shake our heads at the headmaster: a short, plump, grey and aged man who's at least 65.

'It is because, last night they abused the schools' trust in them, and at one A.M. this morning, one of our chefs drove past a couple of teenagers on the side of the road, one bent over, fluid streaming from her mouth. Have you any ideas how this happened?'

More head-shaking.

'Angela Webber and her boyfriend Eric were apparently walking along the freeway, trying to hitch a ride back to the campus, when Miss Webber suddenly started retching. Neither student had a form of communication, and the road was empty, until Mrs Fry drove past and took them to the hospital. As soon as Angela was cleared, her parents were informed of the incident, and requested she return home, immediately. The same happened with Mr Matthews. Evidently, the cause of this was abuse of alcohol.'

Edward and I were silent for a minute, taking this in. It was so unlike Angela to get drunk during term. In fact, it was so unlike Angela to drink at all. Edward drove me out of my train of thought. 'Will they be dancing with us, then, in the performance?'

'I'm afraid not. They will both have the opportunity to show their solo routine to a panel, who will mark them accordingly, and they will return to the school during their final exams.'

'So, Bella and I will be doing solos, then, too?'

'No,' the old man answers shortly. 'You will be dancing together. Fantastic that it was you too, though, don't you think? Two of our best…' he trails, probably thinking of the funding the school could get out of a double signing. 'Well, off you two go. I'm sure you've got lots of arranging to do in regards of your item. Trot trot, go along.'

I leave, furious that I, along with my future, am now depending on a reckless boy who took my heart and decided not to give it back.

**So that's the first chapter! Hope you like it, and please review – you have no idea just how much it inspires me. Stay tuned for the next one, Rose xxx**

**Also: check out my other 2 stories, 12 Down Under and Because He Said. They thrive on feedback. Have fun!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Hope you like this! It's a pretty good chapter, if I do say so myself. Please read and review and I'll love you forever, Rose xxx**

**Disclaimer: Why not?**

'Bella, wait!' Edward called as I stormed up the hallways. I turned abruptly.

'What?'

'Can we, talk, please? About the item? Come back to mine, and we'll have something to eat. Please?'

'No, than-you.,' I replied curtly.

'Hey, it's not as if you can avoid me, Bella. Whether you like it or not, our future depends on one another now, so you're going to have to sit down and talk to me sometime. And, I have Turkish delight in my fridge.'

Damn, how did he know? 'Fine,' I agree grudgingly.

He grinned, making my face soften into a relaxed smile. We walk back to his dorm – which his parents had paid extra for so he wouldn't have to share – where I sit down on the familiar couch, while he retrieves an ornate silver and purple tin from a cupboard above the kitchen benches. He hands it to me, saying, 'Go ahead. I'll be back in a second.'

Not wanting to be rude and take all of his precious Turkish Delight, I spin the box around in my hand, examining the detail of it. It looks extremely expensive, like something my Grandmother would have had next to her big red sofas. And, fittingly, when I am studying the bottom of the tin, all of the contents drop to the floor.

Hearing paper rustling in the next room where Edward retreated, I jump to the floor, trying to snag up as many bits of the confectionary as I can. A hand places itself on top of mine, and I jump.

'Hey, it's fine. Don't worry about it.'

'I'm sorry…I didn't mean to…' I sound like an idiot.

'It's okay, really. It's only sugar.'

'Good sugar.'

He smiles and stands up when all the chunky pieces are arranged neatly back in the tin. He extends a hand for me, and I take it, then settle next to him on the couch.

'So,' he says.

I grin. 'So,' I say with certainty.

He grins too. 'Well, I came up with a couple things with Angela. Mostly just possible pieces of music, but I don't really like much of it…' He trails, looking at me oddly. 'You sing, right?'

'Ha. No.'

'Yes, you do. You sang with Alice in year nine at the information evening. You were great.'

'I wish. Seriously, I don't sing.'

He looks at me again, carefully this time, speaking in an odd voice. 'But you did yesterday. Twice.'

'What?'

'Well, you sang outside my room before you invited me to the club, and then you were singing along to a song when I arrived.'

I feel defeated and confused. _Why had he even been paying attention to this?_ 'I, um, took lessons as a kid, and for a couple years here. It took me ages to realize I wasn't any good.'

'But you are. Anyway, I can play piano…okay…so I thought that maybe we could record something, and no one would have to know, but it would just add to the, I don't know, subliminal depth of the performance. Like, the lyrics would be what we were trying to get across. In a subliminal, mixed-up way. Anyway, I was just an idea. You can ignore it if you want.'

'No, no. If no one finds out that it's me – us, sorry. Then if we can figure something original out, it would work well. Sure.' Mostly I just don't want to see him looking disappointed.

Instead, he looks ecstatic. 'Great. So, if we want this to work well, I think we need to work out what the dance is about, then work out what we're going to record, record it, then figure out the dance. I don't want to make up a dance, then not be able to use it because the timing's wrong or something.'

'Yep. Cool. We should get onto the music department about booking a studio to record in.'

'Already done,' he sys sheepishly.

'What? When?'

'When I was in my room,' he points to the door leading off this room. It amazes me that he has a private bedroom – Alice and I have to cram the label 'bedroom' in with 'lounge', 'dining room' and 'kitchen' in our dorm, and our bathroom is shared with Angela and Olive who live in the next dorm, meaning we all have to get up excruciatingly early if we want hot water.

'Huh?'

'My room… Anyway, I thought I'd be able to convince you, and they're always tightly scheduled on Saturday afternoons, so… We're booked in for 3.30.'

'3.30?' I must sound incompetent, repeating everything he's saying.

'Yep. That's okay?'

'Ah, yeah, yeah. Sure. Do you have any ideas?'

'Um, a couple, but you probably wouldn't like them…' He looks uncomfortable.

'Spill,' I order.

'Ah, well, there was, um…Romeo and Juliet?'

A small noise escapes my mouth, and all the awkwardness from the headmaster's office comes flooding back in.

'See, I told you you'd hate it,' he murmurs.

'No, no. Um, did you think about a possible tune, or something? Any costumes or dance movements?'

'Ah, costumes should be okay. We'll get first priority in the costuming department. Um, dance moves, not so much. But, I've started tinkling around on the piano, and I have a few little things… Tell me what you think.'

I follow him over to the expensive, hi-tech keyboard, shelves and shelves of sheet music and books with spines reading famous pieces and albums on their spines.

He sits down, turns the power on, adjusts the pedal, then asks, 'slow or fast? Or medium?'

'Mm, slow. Romeo and Juliet, right? So it's romantically slow. Emotionally…'

He smiles, to himself, and I think I've said the wrong thing.

He then he lays fingers on the keys and plays the most heart-breaking, heart-felt, warm song I've ever heard, and I feel like crying and laughing and kissing him just at the sound of it. And, worst of all, he wrote it for me.

The song twists and turns through the notes, and somehow Edward knows exactly what I meant, and the song is played as if a man has spent his life dreaming about a girl, and now she's real. I can't shake the fact, though, that that might just be the truth.

The music makes me want to jump and twirl in the allegro and presto and bright bits, and curl up and tremble during the saddening use of diminuendo and ritardando. Instead, I just numbly stand there, watching.

When he finishes, Edward stares at the keys, before looking up at me. 'So, what'd you think?' he asks.

I sit down on the stool next to him, and tears well at my eyes. 'It was beautiful,' I croak, feverishly trying to wipe the saline drops crawling down my face.

'Hey, it's okay,' he says, wiping one that I missed with his thumb. He looked into my eyes.

'How do you do that?' I'm almost inaudible.

'Do what?' he whispers.

'That. Make things like that up.'

'It takes years,' he says, wiping again. 'And it's not hard. I used a couple of basic major and minor chords, and added a melody.'

While he explains this, he's still looking into my eyes, but I notice that his fingers syncing to what he's saying soundlessly.

When the tears refuse to stop, he says, 'come here,' gently, and folds me into his grip. He is strong and warm and magnificently fragrant, and I want to stay here forever.

After who knows how long, we part, and after a moment of comfortable silence, he asks, 'so, any ideas for lyrics?'

'Ummm,' I drawl, 'Yeah. My Pa and Nonna were Italian, so I know a bit of that. I could try it out? Mostly it's just…sounds, and things that don't make much sense. Um, play it again, and I'll try and make something up.'

So he plays it, and for a couple phrases, I improvise, voice still croaky from the hangover, scribbling sentences that sound good with the song on the back of a Mozart photocopy.

We finish harmonized, me a perfect fifth above him.

'Wow,' he says.

'What?' I ask self-consciously.

'You.'

'Me?'

'Of course. Why wouldn't it be you?'My brow furrowed at his comment. Now it was his turn to ask, 'What?'

'You really think I'm okay?'

'No, I think you're brilliant. You have no idea. What you can do, Bella – it's amazing for all of us to witness.'

I have no idea whether he's just sucking up or really believes that, but, either way, he said something that most guys here wouldn't be caught dead doing, so I pull him into a hug this time.

He buries his face in my hair, and when I get sick of that, I lift my face to where the crown of my head used to be, my lips just below his. 'Stuff mistakes,' he whispers, before kissing me.

By six-thirty at night, Edward and I have managed to finish recording. Albeit the momentary make-out session, we stayed to a strict schedule, and just got everything done in time before the attendants (who had to be next door, making sure every once in a while, that we're not attempting to blow up the school with the mix board or something like that) got pissy and accused me of 'mucking around with the distortion' and 'almost breaking the knob off with my manic pulling' (something Edward and I cracked up at) and kicked us out almost before we'd downloaded everything we'd done onto Edward's hard drive and made a couple back up CDs – one for me, one for him, and one to give to Lilith incase we were all having a very bad day.

Now, we walk back through the green grounds, Edward under the pretense that he has to see our English teacher, who is head of the rezzie, about an assignment he handed in last term.

'So, if we ask her really nicely, Lilith'll probably let us use her room to practice in after class. Do you want to?' he asks.

'I doubt we're the first people to think that. Maybe it's best to go see her now?'

'Yeah, but do you know where her room is?'

I remember the time Lilith had found me crying in the girls' toilets during an assembly and took me up to her apartment for green tea. 'Yeah, she has one of the faculty apartments on the floor above the classics section of the library.'

'Oh. Well, lets go.' So we set off to the library – just about the only good thing on the rezzie's side of the campus.

When we find Lilith in the staff kitchen in the middle of faculty areas that we really shouldn't be in but can get away with because we're Year 12, she is carrying a hot mug of chamomile tea.

'Oh, hey. My fave kiddies. What can I do for you?'

She leads us across the hallway into her room, motioning for us to come inside. After five and a half years of frequent visits, I'm completely at home in her three-room apartment, plopping down onto her retro-covered couch and pulling off my leather sandals.

She motions for Edward to join me as she curls into a wicker chair with many cushions and a matching poof. She gives me a 'what is he doing here? Is there something going on between the two…?' look, and so I say, 'Did you hear about Angela and Eric?'

'Oh, yes. But…weren't they your partners? For the duets?'

'Yes. But they're gone, so now we're together,' Edward chips in, and I inwardly cringe at his choice of words: _so now we're together_. For the incredibly intuitive Lilith, that was sure to have a double meaning.

'Ah, I see,' she says slowly. 'So, you're looking for a place to practice after classes tomorrow, I guess?'

'Yeah,' I say.

'Do you have the music sorted?'

'Yep. We were actually wondering if you'd be able to hold onto a spare for us?' Edward inquires.

'Oh, of course, Edward darling.' He pulls a CD from his messenger bag with all of the sheet music in it, before handing it to Lilith, who, naturally, heads straight to the large sound system in the corner, which is surrounded by even more CDs than in her office.

She puts a pair of thick, padded headphones over her ears, listening, and in three or so minutes time, she pulls them off, mussing up her hair.

'Wow, that's just… perfect, really, for you guys. Where did you find it?'

'Um.' I'm not sure whether we tell Lilith or not.

'It's one of my mum's old CDs,' Edward tells her.

'Oh. Well, you'd better get the name of it. So the programme can introduce it with your dance.'

'Ah. That could be…problematic…' I tell her hesitantly.

She instantly knows something is missing from the equation she formed. 'Why ever so?'

'Because…' I see Edward nod in consent, so I continue. 'Because we made it.'

Lilith grins. 'I knew you guys were special. And as if anyone else could have made that! It just screams the two of you, really, it does.' She seems to have gone into gushing, compliment mode, just like she does whenever we perfect a routine.

'Thanks,' we both mumble, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

'Oh, and the contractors will love it! If you guys can make a dance as good as that song, well, I'll be damned if you don't get in. do you have a title for it?'

'No, Lilith. We weren't actually going to tell anyone. You're a…happy exception. No one is going to find out…' Edward tries to inform her.

She only grins knowingly at us. 'Kids, not likely. Even if we somehow got around putting it into the leaflet, it's so brilliant – people will ask. Especially the contractors. And if it means careers for one – or even the both of you - we can't risk holding back that information. They're very strict about their applicants. If we get something wrong it really could cost you…a lifetime of opportunity.'

'Oh,' Edward says, deflated from our previous high. He turns to me. 'Well, we have two choices: I'm happy to use that song and tell everyone, as long as you are.' I can see the pleading in his eyes he is desperately trying to hide. He knows just as well as I do that this song could very well be our ticket to break into the trade we've been bought up to crack into.

'Or, we can try find something else as good, that isn't… by us.'

I know I'm being incredibly selfish here, even contemplating whether we can use the song, when I know we need to. My personal insecurities hold not only my future, but his too.

Lilith looks me in the eye, and I know she's thinking exactly what I am. I look back into Edward's eyes, and tell him, with contrasting twinges of triumph and regret, 'Yeah, we'll use our song.'

Both of them look relieved. While Edward grins at me, Lilith tells us that we need to come up with a name for it and all the extra information we'd been taught a piece of music entered into a show must have.

'Thank-you so much, Lilith,' I say, out of habit.

'No, now don't be silly. What did I do? Nothing. I'll just hold onto this track for you. But it's up to you guys to get it to Mrs Dantine, 'cause she's in charge of the music and programming, so… Well done, guys. Now get out of here. You're not meant to be up hear and it's almost 7 o'clock. Not a good look for me, guys.' She walks us to the door, and waves as we walk down the hall.

When Edward and I are almost at my dorm door, he asks, 'would you like to go out, next weekend? It's one of the town trips, so we could go out for tea, or to the movies, or something.'

I turn into his side and put my hand on his shoulder. 'I'd love to.' We have now stopped outside my door.

'Great,' he whispers reverently, before leaning down and kissing me. Soft and slowly at first, but deeper as the seconds, then minutes pass. Then a sudden gust of cold air startles me, and we jump apart.

Alice is standing in our open doorway, staring. She mumbles a quick 'sorry,' then pulls the door shut again.

'Sorry about that,' I say softly.

'It's fine,' he says, grinning mischievously. 'We might have been getting a bit carried away. I'll pick you up here at six thirty Friday night?'

'Yeah. Awesome.' I wave, and then turn to open the unlocked door, turning once to find him staring. I blush, then head inside.

Alice is waiting for me, curious even more than usual.

'Edward Cullen… whoa,' she says, looking up from a magazine. 'Who would have thought?'

'Mmph,' I respond, pulling of my bag and flats.

'Oh come on, Bella! We used to get so excited over this stuff! You could at least tell me a little bit of the goss!'

'Fine,' I say, grabbing a glass of water then sitting on the end of Alice's bed. 'So, did you hear about Angela and Eric?'

'No. You're meant to be telling me,' she replies, frustrated.

'It's part of the story! Anyway, they tried to get away from the club to… yeah, and I think they got quite a way away to do that, so afterwards they were walking alongside the road, pretty wasted, and Angela started puking and stuff. Then the weird chef – the one who always gives you the evils after you threw the cake – drove past, and saw them. But, yeah, whats-his-face seemed pretty reluctant to admit that's what they were doing, but it's obvious, so… I mean, why else would Angela go that far away from the club? But they didn't have any phones on them so Eric couldn't call an Ambulance when Angela passed out, and the drama continues, and so now Angela's back in Washington and Eric's in Texas, and they're flying in to do their exams and are only allowed to do solos in front of the marking board, and so now Edward and I are partners.'

Alice looks shocked. 'I fail to see why Angela and Eric's fuck-up means you and Edward hook up.'

'Alice! Angela was Edward's partner for the dances. And I had Eric, so Edward and I are dancing together. But, yes, some of that also happened today…' I grinned.

'So you finally got what you wanted,' Alice muses.

'What? No! I mean, maybe ages ago, but I haven't liked him for age-'

'Then why are you grinning, Bella? I can see you've liked him forever.' I'm about to launch into some you-can't-talk-you've-been-clinging-onto-the-guy-you-like-and-don't-have-the-courage-to-ask-him-and-have-only-really-kissed-a-guy-twice-and-it-was-him-and-you've-never-even-been-out-with-him spiel, when I realize she said it in a soft friendly tone. She smiles and jumps off the bed, to rummage through our mini kitchenette freezer. She pulls out two frozen meals. We're not meant to have these, but being Year 12 once again has its advantages. 'Creamy tortellini or veggie lasagne?' she asks, holding up two packages.

'Ummm,'I ponder.

'I'm having the lasagne,' she says, making the decision for me.

'So what was with all the… kissy stuff outside?' she asks while stabbing plastic with a fork.

'Well, after we finished recording, he may have asked me out.'

'Recording?'

'Oh, yeah. Well, we kind of recorded our own song for the duets.'

'When do I get to hear it?' Being Alice, she is obviously entitled to hear it almost straight after I do.

'Here,' I say, handing her my bag from the counter next to me.

'What, is there a stain?' She frantically searches her backside, until I realize what she interpreted that as, and stop her.

'No, you douche. The _song_ is on a _CD_ in _there_.'

'Oh,' she says, trying to keep as much dignity as possible. I crack up, while she pulls out the CD and pops it into the stereo on her desk.

Our song plays, and for the fiftieth time today I try to restrain myself from crying at his playing. 'Wow, this is great,' she says from her bed.

I try to reply with a stable voice, while pulling my dish from the microwave and putting hers in. I grab a fork and sit cross-legged at our coffee/dining table.

'I'm really jealous,' she tells me after it has finished, pulling the disk from the player and storing it in my underwear drawer.

I nod, because I would be too.

**Reviews are better than fluff covered Turkish Delight – leave me one!**

**Rose xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Happy New Year! Hope you're all having fun while Bella and Edward are here in school, stressing out bout exams and the dance in between making out. **

**Which reminds me – this chapter is quite different to the stuff I normally do, mainly because I'm rather craptacular at kissing descriptions, so I was wondering if anyone would possibly like to help me out? Oh! We could make it like a competition, and then I can promote the story of the winner wherever I go on the site or something. PM or review me with descriptions/ideas/ ideas for the comp if you're interested. **

**Or if you need to tell me it's a really bad idea and I'm an idiot, but I wouldn't appreciate that as much. Rose XD**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not yet. **

Monday starts, and again, we are faced with classes.

On the upside, with Angela gone home (even though that's bad), Olive doesn't share a room with anyone, which means one less person to share a bathroom with in the mornings. It is a miracle what an extra fifteen minutes of bathroom can give a person on a grey Monday morning. Last week's nice weather seems to have disappeared completely, and it seems to start raining every other five minutes.

In English, we are handed out all the requirements for our exams. It all looks fairly easy, and I've read all of the books we have to know inside out more than once, so it should be fine.

Maths…actually doesn't look too bad. One of my New Year's resolutions was to really pay attention in class, and it seems to have paid off. All of the units we'd covered and started revising are on here, and I seem to know what to do with them.

After we've gone through the sheet, Mr Rotchford hands out practice exams for us to do in class and as homework before next lesson. Which is tomorrow, and this is three hours worth of math problems.

By fifth period, when we're shuffling into Lilith's room, we've got four hours of homework for tonight. Which means no private practicing with Edward. He comes up to me, and points this out.

'I know,' I say. 'Looks like the next chance will be the weekend.'

He frowns. Obviously he doesn't want to mix work with fun, and doesn't want to spend our date talking about the concert.

We all sit in our pairs in class as Lilith hands out yet another sheet on requirements and assessment. It seems to be exam preparation montage day among the teachers.

'You will be marked on three different altitudes,' she begins. Altitudes? Never heard that one before. 'Firstly, your creativity. How you've made the dance your own and poured yourselves into it.'

Mike sniggers at the corny sentence, but is then shut up by a dead look from Lilith.

'Just make sure the dance is you. About you, obviously about you. Next, you will be assessed on precision and technique. The refined quality of your routine. The amount of practice you put in. Okay?'

Everyone nods, knowing that mark will be rather hefty and crucial. 'The third mark will be your percentage of how you and your performance compare to all the other students dancing. It is the same for those in the music stream. So remember: Creativity and personality; Technique and precision - another thing that comes under that is how well you use the skills you've developed over your time here, so be sure to include things from all of the basic modules we've done. They're listed there on your sheet. And lastly, remember to be competitive. This is the score the contactors are looking for the most. They don't care if you're not 100% on your footwork. They're taking you to their various schools so you can learn that stuff. The only thing they need to be sure of is that you're the best, and they're not missing out on someone who could be a star. But to get the best mark there you have to have excellent technique and creativity, and those two parts will be marked by all the school's dance teachers. So it's one big circle, really.'

Everyone sits there, taking in the speech for a minute, before Lauren puts her hand up. 'Can you tell us the schools that the contractors will be from?'

Everyone pretty much groans the word "typical" while she sits there patiently.

'Er, I'm not meant to, but I will. We've got the London Dance Academy looking for one scholarship student. The New York Dance Company want one also. Those are the two big ones. Then there are several places for the Sydney and Paris Institutes, but those aren't as large scholarships, and aren't usually regarded as seriously. But they are still excellent opportunities for any one of you, if you are asked. But remember: these spots aren't dedicated solely to this school. If they don't find the "wow" factor here, there are plenty of school across the country to choose from. You've got to earn your spot. Any more questions?'

Everyone shakes their head quietly. Next to me, I see Edward looking concerned. He's stressing over the spots. As am I.

For most couples, it's still brainstorming time. Edward extends a hand for me, and pulls me up, whispering in my ear, 'I've got an idea,' as if he were an eighteenth century thief.

We go over to Lilith, who is choosing a track to play while we work. 'Hey guys. What can I do for you?' she asks with her back turned to us. She puts on some familiar old Radiohead before turning around.

'Could we do our maths homework now, so we can have the studio for practice after class?' Edward asks.

'Yeah, go ahead. Just tell the others you're off practicing or something with your music and you don't want them to hear or whatever.' She is immediately relaxed as soon as she's not addressing the class formally. 'Can I trust you two not to do anything silly in your dorms?'

'Yes,' I say.

'Yeah,' Edward says.

'Okay then. Hurry, and be back before the end of the lesson okay? I've got some stuff to do so I need to give you the keys then.' Edward and I nod before hurrying off.

We get some weird looks from the groundskeepers, obviously not sure why we're out of class. We arrive at Edward's dorm after a short trip to mine to get my bag of homework I dumped during lunch. He offers me drinks and nibblies, and after a glass of water we get straight down to business.

I think we both really want to fool around and do silly things we shouldn't do at two-thirty on a Monday afternoon while everyone else is in class, but we need to get all this done so we can spend four hours practicing the dance rather than our number skills.

With twenty minutes before we have to be downstairs, Edward gives up, and heads to his computer. The school website has all the answers to the practice exams we do in case we don't have time to correct them in class, so Edward starts reading answers to me, and I circle those multiple choice like a machine and write down every answer exactly as he says before he writes down all the ones he'd told me.

We both make sure we slip up every once in a while, by one or two, and decide that if he asks why no working out is here, it's been done on another bit of paper we chucked. Of course he'll give the 'in exams you must show working out' speech, but that's even if he asks for them to be handed in. He'll probably just read out a string of multiple choice letters, then tell us to check our answers as homework.

We're going to get at least five of these practice exams and I make a promise to myself that I will complete one with no help from sources other than my brain.

By the time we've finished with that, we still have ten minutes left before we have to go down. I shove my books in my bag, and Edward comes to sit next to me on the couch. He picks up my hand and starts drumming on it, like my fingers are the keys to his piano.

He leans in closer and puts his arms around my waist, and his face next to mine. 'I don't want to go back down there,' he whispers. I know exactly what he means. I'm perfectly happy now, and can't bear the prospect of moving.

Before I can think of something to respond with, his lips are on mine. He's gentle at first, but then something comes over us, and we kind of lose the plot a bit.

We slide down from our sitting positions, and he's on top of me in no time. My hands find themselves crawling under his T-shirt and tearing it off him, then exploring every part of his chest. He's muscly –well, we all are here, but like, really quite muscly. He pulls my cardigan off and then un-buttons my shirt. His hands go to my shoulders and work their way slowly – painstakingly slowly – down.

When he reaches my abdomen, I'm pretty much squirming under his touch, panting heavily. His hands fiddle with the waistband of my leggings, and I desperately want him to go further, but then the school bell rings, completely ruining the mood that we had created and majorly bursting our bubble.

We hear the rush of kids streaming into their dorms around us, and pry ourselves off each other. He pulls his T-shirt back on and tries to manually comb through his hair, while I button up my blouse and replace my cardigan.

He looks at me and smiles. I imagine I look just as flustered as he does, so I get up and also attempt to comb through my hair looking in a mirror on his door. When it refuses to cooperate, I scour through my bag for a hair tie and pull it all into a bun on the top of my head.

I hope Lilith thinks this is to keep my hair out of my eyes, but as we walk into the studio, and she's the only one there, I can see she sees our cheeks are too red to have just run down the stairs.

'Sorry we're late,' I say.

'Maths?' she asks lazily from her desk where she is searching through papers and blank discs with titles. She knows; I can tell.

'Yeah. We got it done, though.'

'Great. All the more time practicing for this.' She fiddles around a bit more before pulling out a stapled mess of paper and two DVDs.

'Here, guys. That's the only other time we had couples performing. 1989. Don't bother with all of them, just look at the ones I've put in the details for. Here's the DVD player, so you guys can work that out. I just think you should watch those before you begin choreographing. Especially the last. Here are the keys. Lock up when you're done and drop them off to me in the staffroom, kay?'

We nod, and she says bye and clears out. We both immediately cross to the DVD player, and Edward puts the disc in while I stand there watching. He sits on Lilith's swivel chair and forwards to the first dance we have to watch.

'Bella,' he says, patting his lap. I smile and go sit on him.

The dance is called _Sunset of the Moons_, and was performed by two kids called Roger Timothy and Gezette Winston. She is a twig, really, and he is a big strong muscle man. But they look like they're in love. They jump and twist as lovers would, and the dance is so in unison in some parts that you think they have a sort of telepathic communication. The music is some old piece that for me is nameless, but the amount of times they would have heard it in practice makes me feel familiar with it.

The lights go down and the audience is standing, applauding massively. The camera closes in on a lady who can only be Gezette's mother and next to her, a tall man with the exact same hair as Gezette. As the camera pans across to the next two seats, we see a robust couple that obviously are Roger's parents. They're hugging and crying, certain that this will get their kids a contract. The camera, ever-knowing, cuts to the balcony where about eight or so men and women, dressed in formal black, are standing clapping, whispering in each others' ears. The audience sedates, and the music to the next dance starts, and in the five seconds we see before Edward pauses it, we know that Gezette and Roger's dance was a standout.

Edward reads from the top of three pages she'd stapled and given us. 'Gezette Winston and Roger Timothy. _Sunset_ _of the Moons_, 1989. After the performance, Gezette was offered a place at The London Dance Academy, as was Roger. They trained there for five years, and were the leads in their last performance with the Academy, Swan Lake, and over their time in London developed a steady relationship. They both then moved on to New York, where after another five years of tuition at the Dance Academy there, they got married.

'Gezette studied for a teaching degree, and is now a full time teacher at The London Dance Academy, where she had begun her tertiary training. After he finished his training in New York, Roger moved back to London so he could be with Gezette while she taught, and decided to teach as well. He is now Director of Dance there. Both have done extremely well there, earning high places in the hierarchy of the school.'

'Wow,' I say. 'What a fairytale life.'

'Mm.' We both sit for a minute, and I'm imagining that life, but replacing Roger and Gezette with Edward and I. Because that's pretty much all I've ever wanted, written down on that bin of paper in Lilith's curly handwriting.

'Next one?' Edward proposes, breaking me out of my imagination montage.

I nod, still mentally drooling over the prospect of that life and story.

This one is called _Roses for Sand_, and I can kind of see why. The girl, Natalia, has the rosiest complexion, and I'm fairly sure it's been enhanced by blush and white powder. And the boy, Jeremiah, has a yellowy tone. It's obviously a love story, and they were obviously going out at this point in time, because when they finish, she's in his arms, and he leans down and kisses her. It has to be the most romantic public display of affection I've ever seen. I sigh in content on Edward's lap, once again imagining us in the places of the pair on stage. He puts his arms around me, and I lean into his chest.

'That's so gorgeous,' I comment.

'I wonder what the contractors thought of it,' Edward muses. I realize what he is getting at: could Jeremiah's lack of discipline put the officials off offering him the scholarship? The camera leaves the stage to cut to the parents, then up to the officials. It seems pretty half and half: they're all clapping, but the three women and one man are applauding with corny smiles, while four men have stony faced expressions, obviously not amused.

Edward pauses it, and reads from the second sheet. 'Natalia Dezclavio and Jeremiah Bullson. _Roses for Sand_, 1989. Natalia and Jeremiah were at this stage a couple, and tried to incorporate this in the dance. But some of the contractors weren't impressed with what he did at the end. It was, of course, an amazing dance, and both had earned places at various schools, but it was decided that it would benefit their careers if they weren't placed together. So Natalia got the one place in New York that was being offered, and Jeremiah went to Sydney. Their relationship suffered over long distance, and was eventually severed.

'In New York, Natalia flourished under the strict regime. She was a consistent student, and was dux of her year several times. During her time at our school, she was predominantly a classical ballet student, but the diverse range of subjects and cultures on offer for her in New York opened her mind to newer concepts. She became intrigued by world dances, and after she finished at the New York Academy, she opened up a dance school of her own for children up to the age of eighteen. It wasn't an academy, but a school that children came to have lessons at for an hour a week, after school or on weekends, in the genres of Classical, Creative and International; those being the three she was trained for. As her school gained status and reputation, it grew and Natalia was able to hire more teachers and thus expand the range on offer at the school. The Dezclavio School of Dance is still operating in the City, now with three different bases throughout the city. Natalia is principal of the school still, and now lives with her new husband Michael and two teenage daughters, Robyn and Esther, in New York. Robyn and Esther both attend the school twice a week, and have won many awards for their dancing. Natalia offers free programs to disadvantaged and homeless children, and has earned several citizen awards for her acts of kindness.

'Jeremiah went to Sydney, and did well there until Natalia broke their relationship off. He went in a downward spiral, getting involved with drugs and alcohol, and was eventually expelled from the Institute. He sobered up and went to the Sydney University in his late twenties, and studied the History of Dance. He went on to write a book about the lives of ballet dancers in strict Schools, which included things like dancers whose toes get torn to shreds by the wooden point in their slippers; and girls who are forced to be stick-thin to keep their place in the School. This book helped raise awareness of these issues, and now they were addressed. Jeremiah died in 2000 in a tragic car accident, and Natalia attended his funeral.'

'Wow. That's quite a story. For the both of them,' I say.

'Yeah. Wow.' He nods in agreement.

'Is that it?'

'Um, yeah. Now it's up to us.'

I stand up off Edward, adjusting my dancing leggings and crossing to my bag. I pull out the CD we'd made, and put it in the stereo while Edward packed away the DVD.

When he's done, I press play.

'How do you usually choreograph?' he asks.

'I move around. And if I do something I like, I keep it. You?'

'Same,' he says.

And so we do. He lifts me up, and we work on lifts and jumps with our song on repeat, and in two hours time we've come up with a basic out line for the first minute of our three or four minute dance.

When we finish up, we are both extremely red in the face, and I can see he's had it worse than me – while I've pretty much only had to concentrate on holding my body rigid while in the air, he's had to concentrate on not dropping me, and moving with me in the air.

His arms must be aching from all the weight and tension. I grab my drink bottle and take a chug and squirt my face before I hand it to him. He drains it in a couple of seconds. 'Hard work, hey?' I ask, and he nods. 'Aw, diddums. Come here.' I open my arms to him, and he comes over and hugs me, pulling me into a bear hug. He spins us around, and my feet lose contact with the floor. 'Ah!' I scream.

He puts me down and we're both laughing hysterically and panting with exhaustion. He crawls over to me from the place he collapsed a couple metres away and starts tickling me. 'Ah!' I squeal again, writhing around his tickling fingers. 'Stop it!'

He doesn't. Until, that is, he collapses from heat and tire. It's my time to strike.

'Oh!' he screams when I pounce on him, tickling under his neck. He wriggles for a minute, then stops, and simply looks at me. My fingers stop, and only then do I realise I'm straddling him, and our faces are only so far apart. Well, far probably isn't the best word. His neck pulls his head up, and closes the miniscule distance between our lips.

His arms close around me, and we stay like that for who knows how long. All I know is that it's a bit too long, because it was light when we started and now it's twilight, but he feels too good to stop. He unceremoniously rolls me under him, just after he does, the doors to the studio open.

Busted.

Lilith steps in. 'Shit,' I whisper to Edward, who has already rolled off me and is, too, breathless and red-faced.

'How's the dance coming along?' Lilith asks. I can see she's trying to look professional and scolding, but her joy in seeing me with the boy I'd professed my feelings about to her so many times is so utterly evident in her smile.

I sit up. 'Fine,' I breathe. 'We can show you.'

'In a minute,' Edward conditions. I nod in agreement.

Lilith sits down next to us. 'Look, guys, I know you're hormonal and all that, but this is a fairly public place. It's still school business hours on a Monday right now. The Headmaster or Mrs Dantine could have walked in giving someone a tour. They're both very stressed at the moment with exams coming up, and they're trying to secure spots for our students from the contractors. He's retiring at the end of this year and has just found masses of overdue, unfinished paperwork, so I assure you, if he or she had found you, you would be gone. You'd have to do the same as Angela and Eric. Okay?

'I don't mind this kind of stuff, as long as one: you do it in a more appropriate place, two: you don't go too far, and three: you don't leave signs of it around everywhere for people to catch onto like I did today. Yep? That's the reason I came down here in the first place. Also, I need my keys to get into my room. I've been hanging out in the staffroom all night and people got suspicious when I just didn't leave.' The both of us nod shamefully. 'Alright. Now get out of here. Did you watch the DVD?'

'Yeah. It was good. The dances were amazing. And the info about them,' I say.

'Mm. Tell me when you figure out the message of that, guys.' With that, Lilith locks the door behind her and leaves, leaving Edward and I staring after her.

What the hell did she mean?

**There it is! Who can guess what she means? There will be a prize of some description for the person/people who does/do. Remeber to press the lil green button down there, won't you? Rose xxx**


	4. Chapter the Last

To my dearest, loyal fans,

Firstly, I must apologise. I haven't been writing, or updating or just generally proactiving for a long while. Something big happened to me, and my family was greatly impacted for a while.. The loss of someone is never easy, but it is made worse when it effects so many people - no matter how small an influence it is. After everything I've been through, I can't muster the spirit to continue with these lighthearted stories. My thoughts are too heavy at the moment, and whenever I try to write a chapter, something very terrible happens to the nicest of people. The happy world of FanFiction is not something I can deal with currently.

However, I did put so much work into these stories, and would hate for them to be lost, and worse, unfinished, forever... so PLEASE, if you are interested, take it off my hands. I am more than willing to hand my work over to a good home, and do not need any credit for the chapters already written. Please consider this!

And so, for the final time, drop me a review! I'd love to go out with a bang. Any perspective takers, message me or something, I'd really love to hear from you. Enfin, un grand merci to the faithful, kind reviewers who, for the last two or so years, have so brightened my life and encouraged my writing with incredible words that i so cherish.

A final goodbye, Rose. XXX


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